


Shared

by Ending_To_Begin



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: A lot of running around not gonna lie, Bottom Cyclonus, Cyclonus is proud, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, shifting viewpoint, valve eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-22 11:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10695666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ending_To_Begin/pseuds/Ending_To_Begin
Summary: Admitting something is the first step. Repeating step one is the next challenge.





	1. Admittance

Rung watched the war machine across from him silently. The unexpected session had been quite successful as far as he was concerned, but Cyclonus still hadn't said what it was he had come to say.

Rung was patient though, and he knew the mech was close. Their entire conversation had been a quiet buildup, and both were aware of it. Rung allowing Cyclonus his time and Cyclonus knowing he needed it, needed an excuse not to back out and shy away. 

The thought had been on his processor for an extended period of time, but there had been no one to bounce it off of (so to speak) and help him sort it out. No one he trusted anyhow, but then he had remembered Rung, the ship's resident psychoanalyst.

Cyclonus had spent some time with the orange mech as part of his mandatory 'rehabilitation', but he never worked his way into more private information. Rung hadn't pressed him for any of it either, for which he found himself grateful. Rung  _ had _ , however, mentioned that if Cyclonus ever needed it he would be available.

So that was how the large mech came to be sitting in Rung's office at an odd part of the cycle. 

By all accounts, both of them should have been recharging, but Cyclonus had been glitchy and unable. Rung himself hadn't left his office yet when he received the private ping, a request to talk.

 

Rung sensed a small change in Cyclonus' field as he shifted and he leaned forward in response. He wanted to be sure Cyclonus knew he was listening with an ever open mind. No judgment, just honest interest and sympathy, or perhaps empathy if that was what Cyclonus needed.

 

"There is... Something about him..."

  
  


Rung nodded. Cyclonus had said the exact phrase a few times before, but this time there was a sort of rawness to it, as if he was tearing down a wall he'd rather keep in place. Now they were getting somewhere.

 

The larger mech stayed silent for a moment, avoiding optic contact with the analyst. He was obviously quite uncomfortable, but he was trying.

 

"Tailgate..."

 

Rung nodded once more, having more than a hunch that was where the conversation had been heading.

When nothing else was forthcoming, however, he spoke up in Cyclonus' stead, prompting him gently.

 

"He's a peculiar one, but a good bot all the same," He stated. "You're also his closest friend."

 

It was Cyclonus' turn to nod.

 

"Yes," he rumbled deeply. "I believe the same could be said... In reverse."

A long vent hissed its way out of Cyclonus and Rung laced his digits, settling in for the flood he knew was coming.

 

"Tailgate is... Peculiar, but, yes, he means well. He is curious and clumsy, yet will also rise to meet the challenges he creates for himself- a trait that I find to be... Impressive.

I have witnessed many a bot destroyed for his naïvety over the centuries, but Tailgate embraces his and is willing to learn, despite his many bolsterous façades and complaints... It actually serves to keep him alive."

 

Cyclonus shifted again and let out a sigh, certain Rung wouldn't exactly know what he was talking about, but he kept going.

 

"I have spent a great deal of my time in his company after the many incidents he has involved himself in, much of it for reasons even I was not privy to. Yet even before our... Companionship.. I gravitated towards him. I was even present when he unearthed himself...

I know more than most about Tailgate- it has always been obvious to me where others would assume nothing and listen to his woven tales- but I am not certain... Why, with all I know and knew of him before our current arrangement... Why I..."

 

Rung tilted his helm to the side. Cyclonus was trying very hard to get to the point, but he kept getting caught up. Normally, Rung would have spoken for his patient or given him a small nudge in the right direction, however, Cyclonus needed this. He was a mech that prized his independence and his ability to work his way through a situation properly. To take away his conflict would be to dishonor him.

 

"Why I... Protect him..." 

 

The war mech grumbled in frustration and dropped his face into a taloned servo. Rung stayed perfectly still and silent, hardly daring to vent. He was so close. Cyclonus had his answer and was more than aware of what he was getting at, he just had to say it. So close.

 

Restoring his posture to normal, Cyclonus finally managed to meet Rung's optics, though he seemed to stare right through them. Rung realized with a barely concealed smile there was too much on his patient's processor to focus on sensory input. He was just responding to the coded politeness protocols he carried.

 

"I have not counted the number of times I have rescued the Autobot from peril and certain death," he stated blankly, still staring with unseeing optics, "and yet... I feel, despite my efforts and my own peril,  he owes me naught.."

 

Focusing slightly, Cyclonus cast Rung a tired gaze.

 

"I cannot say I have always liked him, nor can I say there is any way Tailgate's presence benefits me in any significant manner... If nothing else, my presence is more beneficial to  _ him _ \- when we are not arguing over trivial pursuits..."

 

Cyclonus winced and Rung internally started. That was very unusual display coming from Cyclonus. His attention to his actions and frame allowed for very little error or any sort of unintended slip.

 

"Your fighting.. It bothers you?" Rung asked as carefully as he could manage, holding his relaxed posture despite the irritated look he received in return.

 

Another long vent left Cyclonus' system and he deflated slightly, no actual threat behind his irritation.

 

"Yes," he sighed reluctantly. "Our conflicts do bother me.

I do not wish- no matter how much of an idiot Tailgate can be- for him to be... Unhappy. Our arguments serve to make him uncomfortable... Though I have wondered if it is simply because he is afraid of me."

 

The last few words were nearly lost to Rung as Cyclonus lowered his volume and shuttered his optics, but the implication wasn't. The analyst found himself struggling not to blurt out a very blunt observation in accordance with it.

He was certain he knew what Cyclonus was feeling, but Cyclonus needed to be the one to confirm it. It was not Rung's, nor any other bot's place.

 

"I would not... Have him unhappy. And if it means separating myself from him.."

 

Cyclonus' shutters snapped open and he glared at the wall, gritting his denta.

"I would be  _ willing _ to do that.. But I could not allow him to... go without protection."

 

The large mech was stalling again, but Rung had nothing to offer to keep the wall down. Cyclonus would either confess, or he would shut everyone out again, including Tailgate, and start to spiral down a terrible road.

Rung prayed for the former.

The room was silent for so long Rung actually jumped when Cyclonus broke it. He had ex vented harshly and shook his head.

Rung composed himself just in time to watch Cyclonus very deliberately bring a taloned servo to his faceplate.

"His safety... And his happiness means... Everything to me..." He growled, unknowingly answering Rungs quiet prayer.

For a moment, though, Rung was worried the warrior was going to harm himself before Cyclonus' motion gentled. His digits traced softly through the scars that had unexpectedly appeared upon his derma one particular cycle.

 

"You have no idea what that did to me... What it  _ does _ to me when he is in danger..."

 

The mechs red optics stared at Rung in accusation, though he didn't quite seem to be seeing  _ him _ . It was almost as if Cyclonus was seeing mechs and bots who had harmed or threatened Tailgate in the past- among those ranks was likely a particular Autobot named Whirl... And, perhaps, Cyclonus was another.

Rung inhaled sharply watching the talons move away from Cyclonus' faceplate. Well that explained a lot.

Tailgate  _ had _ mentioned telling Cyclonus of his diagnosis and of Cyclonus' cold, uncaring demeanor towards him- one that left Tailgate distraught. Perhaps it had been a façade on the warrior's part- no, Rung was now  _ certain _ it had been. Cyclonus had been distressed enough to demand Tailgate down to investigate Luna 1- something that had saved their hides, but was unusual- and enough to apparently harm  _ himself _ after Tailgate had initially told him he was doomed.

 

"It's also.. Different now," Cyclonus winced, as if he had done something wrong and was being chastised.

Rung, again, said nothing. He simply watched Cyclonus quietly and patiently waited for him to continue. And continue he did.

 

"I have shared some of my spark with Tailgate- given him a part of the second chance I was granted- and I am aware of him more than I ever was before... I saved his life and received his and many others' gratitude in return, but none of that is so profound at the relief I feel whenever emotes strongly and the... The.. Dare I say  _ joy _ I receive whenever he is in my proximity... I can now  _ feel _ his life force and I know, beyond a doubt whenever he is distressed.."

 

Looking away and dropping his helm to his hands, Cyclonus' frame then shook.

Rung balked for a klik before he managed to articulate a decent response.

"...and you feel guilty for this?" He whispered.

Cyclonus' optics blazed as his head snapped up.

"N-not for saving him," the analyst quickly rectified, "but for feeling such things and being connected to Tailgate in such a way... Without having told him how you feel and without having given him the option to fully understand what it is you did?"

 

The warrior blinked several times. 

 

"I...Do. Yes," he finally managed. "He does not know what I feel.. Nor the effect I have allowed him to have on me... I-I..."

 

Vents hitching, Cyclonus had to look away. Rung found it prudent to finally stand and round his desk to place a servo on the warrior's shoulder, albeit lightly.

Cyclonus had managed to finally get to the heart of his own distress, there was only one thing left for him. It would take some time... And a little nudge.

"You've been so good to Tailgate, Cyclonus... And he is quite fond of you, I am sure whatever it is you need to say to him will only serve to help you grow closer."

 

"Good to him," He huffed," that is not what many believe. They believe I have.."

 

"...that you have repaid his kindness and companionship with hostility?"

 

Cyclonus nodded. The comment stung, but he couldn't deny that's exactly how he felt, and probably exactly what it looked like.

 

"Tailgate is a marvel.."

Cyclonus' servo absently touched his formerly broken horn as he spoke- yet another peculiar display Rung was surprised to see.  

"He singlehandedly brought me back on board and took me to the medic, he offered a gift where I wanted none and forgave me when I destroyed it, and he has made such valiant efforts to be kind to me, to learn of the past through interaction with  _ me _ ... And he has done it all with innocence and want of nothing... He was the first to give me an honest chance, free of any sort of hostility... 

I have lived long and learned enough to know I have not time nor ability to repay him for all he has done, despite his sometimes being insufferable..."

 

Rung smiled.

"Cyclonus, do you so easily forget what joy  _ your _ actions have brought to him?"

 

The warrior turned his head and simply stared, servo dropping and clenching into a fist.

 

"If it weren't for  _ your _ sacrifices and  _ your _ efforts, Tailgate would not even be here today. Right from the start you have been his savior and his friend. You have not always acted in accordance to what an  _ Autobot _ would call 'friendly', yet you never once intended to hurt Tailgate more than he deserved, and you have also sacrificed everything in return for nothing- accepting not even his forgiveness. 

I understand you feel guilty for  _ wanting _ that in return, but what it is you want is something that could only be given, and it is something he would gladly give to you alone."

 

Unclenching his fists, Cyclonus looked away.

"Then why do I feel I do not deserve it?" He asked in a strained tone.

 

Rung resisted the urge to chuckle. "Because, despite your best efforts, the words and actions of hostile Autobots have gotten to you. It has made you cold at times, but that's what we've been working on, and your recognition of the problem has given you the ability to halt such behavior- especially around those you care for.

You've seen so much of war and have done so many things they find deplorable that many subconsciously shy away, making you believe yourself unworthy of anyone who stays...

Besides that, your primary function was once to simply follow orders, and that no longer remains. You have had to change and are still unsure of yourself."

Both bots shifted, but Rung did not pull his servo away.

When Cyclonus refused to respond otherwise, Rung finally allowed himself his blunt statement.

"Love may not be new to your spark," he said," but i think letting it in again frightens you."

 

A full body jolt ran from Cyclonus and into Rung.

"Love? ... Is that..."

Shaking his helm, Cyclonus actually laughed, full sparked and  _ loud _ .

"Yes... I do believe you are correct, analyst.

Tailgate means the universe to me... I... Love him.. And yet, I feel I am unworthy."


	2. Squealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telling Tailgate and Tailgate's reaction.

It was seldom Cyclonus felt nervous. It was even more seldom that he was unable to conceal a visual cue to his distress, but it was happening. He'd been ticking his talons off and on for hours.

His talk with Rung had been... Helpful. And now it was time to put the analyst's advice to the test. He was slightly embarrassed it had taken him so long to admit his predicament out loud, but he had. Now he just had to figure out how Tailgate would react to hearing it.

The little bot was out again. He had asked if Cyclonus wanted to join him before he left, but, as usual, he politely declined- unbeknownst to Tailgate, for a slightly different reason than normal- he had to gear himself up for Tailgate's return. 

He was desperate to talk to the mini, but he didn't want to spoil an entire day if things went sour... Though from what Rung said, that was unlikely.

Still... He was nervous. If not for the potential rejection, for the fact that Tailgate might return overcharged and impaired, or with another bot in tow- something Cyclonus wanted to avoid for a number of reasons.

 

The door to their shared habsuit slid open and Cyclonus twitched, wary of turning. Hearing only one set of peds helped him to relax marginally though and he was grateful to be able to manage. 

 

"Hiya Cy," Tailgate piped, chipper, but sounding normal, "have fun while I was out?"

 

Cyclonus relaxed a bit more, only the nerves caused by the impending conversation remaining.

 

"Mm, not exactly," he hummed, watching Tailgate punch in the security code to lock the door for the evening.

"Aww," came the reply, "you should'a come out! I bet you would have enjoyed Rewind's story for this evening. It was hysterical!"

 

Done with his work, Tailgate skipped happily over to his own berth and plopped down with a giggle.

"Primus... Life is good sometimes, you know?"

 

"Mm..."

 

Finally registering something was off with his roommate, the minibot turned so he could face the solemn character seated across the room.

"Uh... Is somethin' up Cy? You're looking kind of... Er.. Pale. You know, for you..”

 

Tailgate squeaked as Cyclonus' optics flashed brightly, afraid he had said the wrong thing.

"Er... F-forget I asked..? I'm sorry if I uh, upset you, Cyclonus.."

 

The larger mech's gaze softened and he leaned away, his spark twisting painfully in his chassis. He hadn't meant to distress Tailgate.

 

"You did nothing of the sort," he spoke softly. "You have done nothing wrong, Tailgate..."

 

The mini cocked his head curiously and Cyclonus felt the smaller spark calming within its host.

A silence stretched before Tailgate tried again, obviously picking up on Cyclonus' sudden need, but inability to talk.

 

"Sooo what's up, Cy," he asked carefully, "did somebody er.. Call you a deception again?"

 

Cyclonus snorted. Leave it to Tailgate to lack just enough tact without losing an ounce of that adorable innocence.

 

"Negative," he chuckled before returning to normal. "Actually.. There was a matter I wished to discuss with you..."

 

"Uhoh..."

Cyclonus' optics darted to the blue visor across from him, anxiety gripping him like nothing else.

"Is this about.. That incident at Swerve's involving what's-his-face? 'Cuz If it is, I made sure to report it like you asked! Honest!"

 

Laughter rumbled deep in Cyclonus' chassis and there was little he could do to stop it. Tailgate looked on, confusion marring his otherwise curious field.

 

"No, no," Cyclonus managed over his rumbling, "I trust you did that right after I suggested it."

He laughed again, this time the sound tainted by his scrambled nerves.

"No... This was a suggestion from Rung... There is something I.. Want to say to you..."

 

The minibot cocked his head again, more confusion flooding him and bombarding Cyclonus.

Sobering, Cyclonus cleared his intake.

"I wanted to tell you...

It.. Was suggested that I... I..."

His red optics found that ever-blue visor and Cyclonus lost his muster. He did love Tailgate, every fiber of his being screamed at the idea of rejecting the mini... But how in Primus' name would such a bot reciprocate that for such a stern and cold warrior... It didn't seem possible despite what Rung had  _ strongly _ implied before he left.

"Tailgate... I... You are..."

Vocalizer cutting out, Cyclonus dropped his gaze. It wasn't supposed to be this hard. This was Tailgate- the only bot he had willingly risked his life for in recent times, free of orders and threats of punishment if he didn't, and the only one Cyclonus had allowed himself to get close to... The bot he had given a part of his spark to (which was likely all a part of Vector Sigma's master plan for the scheme of things, but still- the significance was not lost).

 

A shuffling reached his audio receptors and Cyclonus found himself looking down upon Tailgate's (literally) masked concern. The smaller mech reached up and unexpectedly pulled Cyclonus down to his level for a hug. Cyclonus was too stunned to protest, instead moving only to wrap his servos around Tailgate's tiny waist in an attempt to gently separate their frames.

 

"Whatever it is Cy, I promise I'll do whatever I can to help, okay? If you've got something or something, we'll go and we'll find a cure no matter what!"

 

Another laugh rumbled through Cyclonus to rattle into Tailgate who shivered.

 

"That's not..."

 

Cyclonus silently cursed himself for dragging out this silly situation. He knew Tailgate would get wild ideas in his head. He was so good at fabricating fills for missing information, even if he had managed to stop lying.

Managing to pull away, but leaving his servos on Tailgate's hip joints, Cyclonus looked over what he could of Tailgate's face.

He pursed his lip plates a moment before he finally managed, "Tailgate... I am a fool..."

The mini's visor dimmed. He almost looked sad at Cyclonus' personal observation.

"I have not spoken what I should and I have treated you... poorly... But I want you to know that... You are the most important bot in my life. You..

You mean the universe to me, Tailgate, and I would have you happy no matter what I must do to allow you that... "

 

Confusion and anxiety bombarded Cyclonus from Tailgate's extended em field and he did his best to counter it with calm assurance. He did not expect reciprocation, he just wanted Tailgate to know how he felt.

Tailgate calmed quickly before Cyclonus suddenly found himself holding onto a giggling minibot.

Afraid he had somehow shorted Tailgate's circuits, he moved him up onto his berth so he could (hopefully) recover.

Joy pulsed from Tailgate's spark, nearly causing Cyclonus to topple over backwards from the intensity of it.

"Cyclonus," he squealed, reaching for one of the large mech's hesitant servos. Cyclonus relinquished it easily, but did not lose his concern for a blown circuit.

"Tailgate..?"

 

The mini hummed and clutched the servo to his chest, not at all paying attention to the sharp talons.

 

"Can I ask you a question?"

 

He beamed as Cyclonus nodded.

 

"What if it would make me happy to be allowed to have... You?"

 

Thoughts scattering, Cyclonus found himself responding with, "Then I am yours without question," before he could stop himself.

He had a mind to look embarrassed, but he couldn't stop an honest smile from spreading across his derma as Tailgate squealed again.


	3. What Makes You Happy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only way to know is to ask.

Cyclonus had been needed for a mission early in the cycle, so both bots had agreed to continue their conversation at later time. Thankfully everything had gone smoothly and Cyclonus was able to return their suit before the other, his processor buzzing with a million thoughts, all centered on Tailgate.

He was still nervous and uncertain of Tailgate's interest/true intent, but that was because their discussion had mostly been Cyclonus struggling to just spit out the fact that he liked Tailgate, never mind how Tailgate felt.

 

Did he feel as strongly for Cyclonus?

 

Said mech jumped as the door opened behind him and a smaller frame ran straight into his legs.

 

"Ouch! Cy! What're you doin' blockin' the road?"

 

Cyclonus moved out of the way and apologetically watched Tailgate rub the side of his arm.

The mini entered fully and it was Cyclonus' turn to activate their regular evening security. He did so without a word as Tailgate grumbled and made his way to his berth.

Cyclonus felt bad and, par his recent confessions, moved to try and soothe Tailgate's ache once he got settled.

 

"Um... What're you doing?"

 

Cyclonus shook his head and simply removed Tailgate's servo from the spot he was rubbing. He then planted a soft kiss over it and mumbled a quiet apology.

Stunned, Tailgate was uncertain of how to respond. Cyclonus had always been... Softer with him than anyone else, but actual affection was... New. 

Cyclonus sat down on the berth in front of Tailgate and he finally managed a squeak.

 

"Forgive me," Cyclonus apologized again, "I didn't mean to be in your way... And I thought you might like to join me in continuing our conversation?

If.. This is too forward.."

 

Tailgate shook his head frantically. "No it's not too forward," he blurted, " just... Different. You're so... Uh.. close."

 

"Oh," Cyclonus leaned away, trying to give the minibot more space. "Better?"

 

Tailgate wasn't sure how to respond.

 

"I can move to my own berth if it would make you more comfortable.."

 

Squeaking again, Tailgate wrapped his servos around Cyclonus' nearest arm.

"N-no! No, you're fine... I'm just... I'm having a hard time.. You really do like me? And you want me to be happy?"

 

The questions struck at the warrior in an unpleasant way, but he ignored that in favor of nodding. Tailgate, despite all of his boasting, did not have as much confidence as he liked some to believe... A trait Cyclonus realized they both shared.

 

"Yes... I want you to be happy... And I am.. Quite fond of you, Tailgate..."

 

"Ah... I'm glad I wasn't dreaming that..."

 

Cyclonus rose an optic ridge, but Tailgate shook his head.

 

"It all seems too good to be true, Cy... I mean... I've liked you for a long time... And I've wanted to show you, but..."

 

"But I have not responded as you would have liked.."

 

"Well... Yeah... But.. You did save my life.. And you've been sorta nice otherwise.. So I had hoped."

 

The minibot winced, more than aware of Cyclonus' views on hope.

Cyclonus hummed thoughtfully in return, something Tailgate had not expected.

 

"I found myself hoping as well... It is against my logic to do so... But.. I had... hoped nonetheless."

 

Tailgate's visor brightened considerably. He was surprised and extremely excited- relief and joy absolutely radiating from his frame, though he seemed unable to find his voicebox.

Cyclonus started, talons curling into the berth as he found himself yanked down. Tailgate was much stronger than he looked, little arms hooked over Cyclonus' shoulders to keep the warrior in place as he tapped their helms together. It took Cyclonus a nano-klik to realize it was Tailgate's version of a kiss. He found himself softening at the gesture, leaning in to reciprocate.

 

"Tailgate," he rumbled quietly, "thank you..."

 

"Mhm!"

The mini nuzzled Cyclonus fondly before backing off.

 

"Uh... For what?"

 

Having no way to describe what he meant, Cyclonus merely brought his helm down again and offered  _ his _ version of a kiss- his lip plates pressed to the front of Tailgate's mask.

The minibot squealed, faceplate turning red.

 

"Cy," he babbled, "y-you're kissing me! Primus I can't believe this is happening, you're actually- Yipe!"

 

Leaning forward, Cyclonus deliberately knocked the mini off balance to catch him by the shoulders, gently though, being sure not to grip too hard.

 

"Be quiet," he teased, "unless you want me to stop."

 

"N-no! Please, I, no... Please don't stop un-.... Unless you want to."

 

Taken aback, Cyclonus eyed his companion.

 

"What? What do you mean? Why.. Would I want to?"

 

Tailgate's digits drummed against Cyclonus' plating. The warrior recognized it as a sign of nerves and once more realized just how similar the two of them were. Two sides of the same coin.

 

"Mmm..." The minibot hesitated.

"Well... Does it make  _ you _ happy Cyclonus?"

Tailgate's flush deepened and he removed his servos to poke his digits together, no longer keeping optic contact.

"I know you said that you would do anything to make me happy, anything that I asked, even give yourself...But I mean... I don't want to take advantage of you or know that you're only doing things because I want you to. It doesn't seem fair.. Especially seeing how much I.. Well I um..."

 

Cyclonus thought he was going to get a reason- such as Tailgate's past affliction or even his affinity to boast and chatter needlessly- so he was actually shocked at Tailgate's reply. 

 

"What I'm trying to say is... Cyclonus.. What would make me happiest is well... For  _ you _ to be happy, no matter how hard that might be," he mumbled.

 

Gaping in disbelief, Cyclonus tried to backtrack and figure out just what he had done to deserve this. Tailgate- the real Tailgate- was just so fragging  _ perfect _ .

Never mind all the tradition and conventional ways he knew of to try and find or even  _ take _ a suitable mate (he wasn't Autobot, nor was he decepticon, but that didn't mean he was unaware of their practices), he had been granted a bond without meaning to ask for it. It was unexpected, unconventional, and entirely... Odd (for lack of a better term), but Cyclonus could no longer deny it.

Be it cruel or merciful fate- whatever vector sigma was playing at- Cyclonus truly had found his other half. Tailgate had always been right.

 

Cyclonus gave Tailgate's shoulder plating a gentle squeeze and placed a soft kiss on the mini's distracted visor.

 

"Nothing makes me happier than you, Tailgate... No matter how insufferable you can be at times."

 

Half laughing, half squealing, Tailgate bounced up- slamming his frame into Cyclonus for a true, gratuitous hug. He hummed happily when Cyclonus caught and hugged him back. He then proceeded to bury his helm into the larger mech's neck cables. Cyclonus was still fairly stunned, but he did manage to ensure his companion did not drop out of his lap.


	4. In Tandem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their late-night discussions may have been a nice and welcome change, but Cyclonus still found himself wanting just a little more time with his autobot.
> 
> Everything kept getting cut short with their need to recharge and report for duties or plans made with others. It was mildly frustrating. So when Cyclonus found Tailgate had a free (day) that coincided with one of his own, he jumped at the chance to 'corner him'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised! Perhaps a little late if your week ends on Saturday (in which case I sincerely apologize for the lateness).
> 
> Rating has Changed par some VERY sticky/descriptive smut from Tailgate's View. Enjoy <3

Their late-night discussions may have been a nice and welcome change, but Cyclonus still found himself wanting just a little more time with his autobot.

Everything kept getting cut short with their need to recharge and report for duties or plans made with others. It was mildly frustrating. So when Cyclonus found Tailgate had a free (day) that coincided with one of his own, he jumped at the chance to 'corner him'.

  
~ 

 

"Where are you going?"

 

Tailgate squeaked as Cyclonus' massive servo curled around his exterior armor, awfully close to a seam. His grip was solid, but there was a gentle quality to it, as if he would allow Tailgate to move away if he wanted to.

 

"Uhum.." He squeaked again, pressing digits together out of habit, " I-I was going to go see if Rewind or someone wanted t-to... Hang out. I don't know if there's going to be a movie tonight and I figured I'd ask around."

 

Cyclonus hummed behind him and Tailgate shivered, enjoying the sound more than he ought.

 

"Would you prefer Rewind's company to my own today," he asked quietly," or might I be able to spend some time with you?"

 

Tailgate turned, dislodging Cyclonus digits and beamed up at the war mech, almost looking too far above himself before he realized Cyclonus had kneeled down.

 

"Spend some time with you? Sure!"

 

Tailgate flushed and Cyclonus felt his derma stretch into a hint of a smile.

 

"I-I mean.. I would really like that if- if you feel up for it too- I mean..! Er.. What would you like to spend time doing?"

 

Cyclonus chuckled, nearly melting poor Tailgate into a puddle. Primus _why_ did he have to be so fragging attractive?? Even the faint scars which caused Tailgate some distress upon seeing now and then were marks of quiet, unassuming grace. They were once gruesome wounds, but Cyclonus wore them well, as only he could. And his voice! A modulated flow of husky, guttural tones- music to Tailgate's audials.

 

"Tailgate?"

Tailgate found himself lightly shaken by a taloned servo.

"Huh? Oh! Sorry, Cyclonus!"

He shook his head, trying to clear it. Tailgate still wasn't used to Cyclonus being so close, especially not down to his level as he was. Normally it was Tailgate getting into Cyclonus face (before he ended up set/carefully tossed off to the side). Cyclonus being so forward had Tailgate feeling a bit heated.

 

"Hmm... Something seems to have you distracted," Cyclonus observed. "Might it be something you are willing to share?"

 

"I uh.. Well," he squeaked, "I was distracted by.. _you_."

 

Tailgate brought his own servos to Cyclonus' confused face and squirmed happily when he didn't force them away.

 

"You're amazing, especially up close, you know that? A little frightening, but big and strong and..."

 

A fond sigh left the minibot as he traced an unmarred part of Cyclonus' faceplate. Cyclonus responded with another chuckle.

 

"I see... Allow me to... Demonstrate my previous comment: I would be more than happy just talking... But if you would prefer-" Cyclonus turned his faceplate into one of Tailgate's wrists and planted a soft kiss on the seam, "-there are other options available for time allotted to us."

Tailgate was going to ask what Cyclonus meant by that, but a sudden flick of the warrior's glossa to his wrist answered the question before he could articulate it.

A line of heat bolted from his arm directly into his spark and then down into his abdomen.

 

"Oooh~," he whined weakly, awe and curiosity blossoming across his field. "If more of that is what you mean by 'other options', yes please!"

 

Tailgate trembled as Cyclonus' talons gently trailed their way from his white shoulders down to his little servos.

His digits wrapped deftly around Tailgate's wrists, freeing one from his face and keeping the other at an angle that allowed him to continue to tease the seam.

Tailgate squirmed where he stood, caught between feeling Cyclonus' deft glossa and watching it work its way between sensitive cabling. Primus it _felt_ amazing, and the visual... Cyclonus was obviously very talented.

 

Someone's cooling fans clicked on and Cyclonus' small smile told Tailgate they were his. Squeaking, the mini tugged weakly against Cyclonus' grip, not really trying to get away, but wanting to reciprocate. Cyclonus just chuckled directly into his wrist.

Tailgate felt his knees grow weak at the vibration and his faceplate heated enough he was certain it was glowing.

 

"C-Cyclonus!"

 

"Mm?"

 

The warrior's red gaze turned to Tailgate and his knees _did_ give out. Cyclonus was right there to catch him, however, before he hit the floor.

 

 _Primus_ it wasn't fair that Cyclonus had that much power in his optics alone, and to be able to wrap Tailgate in the opposite of a chaste embrace as he buckled _really_ wasn't fair.

It _was_ amazing though. He could not deny that.

 

Cyclonus had managed somehow to deftly slide his thigh between Tailgate's legs and weave a servo around to his backside to support him, all while holding onto his wrist and continuing to play with the seam.

 

Tailgate arched and turned his head to the side to hide his face. His movement effectively made him grind his pelvic plating against Cyclonus' leg- thus the reason for his shy display.

There was a variety of ways Cyclonus could respond to that. The smile he felt against his trapped wrist had him hoping it would be something to help with the heat growing behind his modesty plates. When Cyclonus' response was to move his leg away instead, Tailgate whined- and gasped as he was lifted from the ground.

His first instinct was to grasp at whatever was in reach to ensure he wouldn't fall, and his second was to let out a startled laugh as he realized Cyclonus was carrying him to one of their berths.

 

"More comfortable, yes?" Cyclonus asked as he set Tailgate down.

 

“Mm,” came Tailgate's reply. He didn’t trust himself not to squeak.

 

Cyclonus immediately attacked his wrist again, purring as he did so. The vibrations rumbled right out of his chassis and directly into Tailgate’s, making the heat in his array grow significantly. He tried not to squirm, watching Cyclonus’ play, but it felt so good, and Cyclonus genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself just as much as Tailgate was.

 

The mini giggled in another effort to keep himself still. Cyclonus seemed to have other plans.

His glossa, which was not nearly as fluid coated as most would be, weaved between the wires in a deft manner until he found his main sensor line.

Tailgate squeaked and pulled his knees together, unable to help himself.

Cyclonus chuckled against his line and he couldn't help squirming even more. Keeping his composure didn't seem like a plausibility, but he still tried.

 

“C-Cy…  that tickles!”

 

“Hmm..”

 

Cyclonus’ glossa gently swiped at the line and Tailgate squirmed more, trying for all he was worth to keep from laughing. He failed miserably. It really did tickle. It felt so nice in the way someone massaging wires did feel, but with just a little too much stimulation at the same time.

 

Tailgate found himself trying to yank his arm away while still laughing. Cyclonus held him fast, but not nearly hard enough to hurt him. Tailgate did manage to wiggle free from his grip only when Cyclonus would have had to pinch something to keep him still.  Cyclonus chuckled as Tailgate's giggles subsided, but he did not chase him. He let him return to being comfortable, which Tailgate found he was grateful for. Being under that red gaze though… His faceplates weren’t going to cool anytime soon.

Cyclonus was positively riveted.

 

In a spur-of-the-moment thought, Tailgate had a mind to let the locks on his mask release. He wasn’t quite certain why, but he found Cyclonus’ sharpened focus to be intriguing.

Tailgate moved his servos up, more for show than anything else, and touched the center of the mechanism that hid his face.

Cyclonus watched him silently, hardly daring to vent in a rare moment of unabashed curiosity.

Exventing quietly, Tailgate slowly teased two digits into the miniscule crack, manually  easing it wider despite the protocols he knew he had to make the panels snap back on their own. He had never intended to open it past the first time he had done it- there being no real need as he could take his energon through alternative methods, and having been slightly uncomfortable seeing the differences he bore from that of his much more recently built, much less disposable friends- but he was curious as to what Cyclonus might think...

 

Hooking his digits as the two panels separated enough, Tailgate took one final breath before pulling the one aside. The opposite panel slid back in conjuction, both making a small ‘click’ as they were subspaced into the little crevices in his helm.

He was stunned that Cyclonus seemed to have stopped venting entirely.

 

Tailgate squirmed. Cyclonus was obviously staring at him, but he did not turn his face away. He… _wanted_ Cyclonus to see him- to really see him for all he was, even if he had just been a cheap, worthless-

 

Talons were suddenly wrapped firmly around each side of his helm and Tailgate squeaked. Cyclonus stroked Tailgate’s cheeks with his thumb digits before they dipped down to the strange spiraled port that served as his main intake.

Tailgate’s face had been made for efficiency, nothing more. To take in low grade energon as quickly as possible so as not to delay any assignment. His mask was there to prevent any dust or grime from getting into the port and causing other delays until such a time he could be replaced, though Tailgate now used it to hide more than anything. He wasn’t hiding anymore though, and it was wonderfully strange to be so fascinating for it.

Cyclonus’ talons gently stroked the very edges of Tailgate’s intake, passing over the soft ridges individually. It almost tickled, and if Tailgate could smile he would have. As it was, he allowed his optics to dim as Cyclonus explored, granting him any permission he might need.

 

“You are absolutely enthralling.”

 

Whatever Tailgate had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been that. He whimpered as Cyclonus’ stroke pressed a bit more firmly up his cheek.

In yet another move that was unexpected, Tailgate found himself being kissed- intake to intake- by Cyclonus. The heat he had forgotten between his legs suddenly spiked tenfold, and, to his embarrassment, he heard his cooling fans click to a higher setting.

Cyclonus hummed against him and he swore they jumped to the next setting.

 

Tailgate brought his servos up to Cyclonus’ faceplate in return and pulled him as close as he could, unable to help himself. He couldn’t exactly kiss back, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t reciprocate somehow.

A small, entirely (in)appropriate noise came out of the war machine above him and Tailgate swore something in him really did melt. That... was amazing.

Tailgate nuzzled Cyclonus as best he could while humming back, but primus if the heat behind his modesty panels wasn’t distracting.

He found himself squirming minutely, trying to be discrete about pressing his thighs closer together. He quickly discovered Cyclonus was far too observant for his own good.

Still kissing Tailgate, he pulled one of his taloned servos away from his helm to trail down to Tailgate’s collar. Thinking Cyclonus was going to stop there, Tailgate twitched when the servo dipped lower, gently teasing his smaller frame.

 

Tailgate’s hips involuntarily rose as it continued trailing down and finally came to brush his upper and then lower panel.

A full-frame shudder ran through him, but primus it felt good. No, scratch that, it felt amazing.

 

Tailgate whined just before Cyclonus separated their intakes and was privileged to see a similar shudder to his own rock through Cyclonus. They stared at eachother for a klik, both their dermas flushed a bright pink, before Tailgate decided to make yet another bold move. His modesty panels slid back to reveal both valve and spike simultaneously.

 

The warmth radiating from Cyclonus was a bit of a shock and Tailgate jerked under his touch. Cyclonus seemed equally surprised but recovered quickly. One digit ever so gently brushed the the edge of Tailgate’s valve lips and he jerked again- legs twitching at the unfamiliar contact. Cyclonus smiled softly, carefully watching for any sign he should stop. Tailgate really didn’t want him to. He was no stranger to his frame- Ratchet had insisted he was educated on everything his makers had neglected to tell him about himself (it was a standard bit of equipment at the time for whatever reason, even for disposables), and had encouraged he get to know as much as he was willing to in his own time- having someone else privy to it was just new.

Thinking on it, he was suddenly extra glad it was Cyclonus, as other mechs might have been a bit weirded out by his design. Standard for one era did not mean universally standard. Lucky they were both from the same era- Cyclonus was not shy, just careful.

 

His digit slid the opposite direction, and this time Tailgate held himself in place despite how it tickled. He did giggle, however, and Cyclonus’ smile grew. He pressed just a bit, parting the mesh slightly and it took more effort for Tailgate to hold still. He managed, if only just.

He reveled in the gentle treatment, feeling heated and revved more than he could remember being before. Cyclonus’ fans clicking on attested to his own enjoyment, much to Tailgate’s glee.

Cyclonus teased his digit up and down a few more times before he paused, a low rumble sounding from his engine.

Tailgate looked to him curiously, uncertain as to why he was stopping.

 

“A slight predicament,” Cyclonus said softly. Primus if his voice didn’t rev Tailgate up more though he did his best to pay attention. “My talons may be far too dangerous.”

 

To emphasize his point, Cyclonus grazed the tip of one talon across Tailgate’s sensitive mesh. It caught and pulled slightly, so sharp and fine Tailgate was certain it would easily pierce the mesh with the slightest effort. He withheld a shudder in favor of offering Cyclonus a questioning stare.

Cyclonus chuckled.

“In lieu of that.. Might I try something else?”

 

Cyclonus’ talon slid up, barely missing Tailgate’s outer node and sent a shiver through his frame. Tailgate was too curious to say no.

At Tailgate’s affirmative nod, Cyclonus removed both of his servos from Tailgate’s frame so he could use them to slide lower on the berth. Tailgate held himself on his elbow joints to watch him, curiosity growing despite having an idea of what Cyclonus had in mind.

Cyclonus settled at waist level, his stare never leaving Tailgate’s faceplate. Being watched so was a surprising turn-on, but Tailgate certainly wasn’t complaining. Cyclonus was always so careful, there always being a reason for what he did, and he seemed to want to be certain Tailgate was comfortable, or as comfortable as he could be. He was still rather revved.

With another chuckle, Cyclonus relented his stare, shifting instead to lower his head between Tailgate’s thighs.

As Tailgate parted his legs for Cyclonus, energon pooled under his faceplate. He couldn’t help being a bit bashful, but Cyclonus didn’t seem to mind, content to go at Tailgate’s leisure. He waited until Tailgate had settled before moving lower, softly nosing the underside of Tailgate’s spike. Tailgate squeaked, his lower half twitching at the contact.

Cyclonus chuckled again, but relented. Tailgate was almost disappointed until he felt something unusal- Cyclonus’ glossa had pressed to his valve mesh.

Tailgate keened, optics going offline. The shock of the sound sent more energon to his face, but his valve seemed to appreciate it; a glob of lubricant flowed from it as his spark gave a particularly strong pulse.

Cyclonus immediately ducked his head to catch the liquid and smear it back up through Tailgate’s valve lips with his glossa. His valve leaked even more and Cyclonus repeated the action until Tailgate felt wonderfully slick. His head was going to fall back in bliss- the new stimulation more wonderful that he ever imagined- when he felt something grip his spike.

Optics onlining, he discovered Cyclonus’ large servo had wrapped around him. His thumb stroked up the underside of Tailgate’s spike to mirror what his gloss was doing.

Low charge crackled across Tailgate’s frame and spark gave another strong pulse.

 

“Cyyy,” he whined, not quite certain why. It felt so good, much better than doing it himself, even though Cyclonus wasn’t being particularly bold, or at least he hadn’t been.

Tailgate keened again, feeling Cyclonus’ glossa move up and press firmly against his outer node. He couldn't suckle for his lack of cheeks, but Tailgate was far from disappointed as he rubbed practiced little circles on and around it.

Tailgate’s legs twitched, attesting to his need to squirm as the head of his spike was given the same treatment with Cyclonus’ thumb. A bead of transfluid bubbled up and Cyclonus used it to help ease the friction. It wasn't long before Tailgate was struggling to hold out against an overload. His vents opened wide and he panted, trying to dissipate the excess heat.

 

“Ah, Cy!”

 

Cyclonus hummed, the sound reverberating into Tailgate and edging him even closer. He wanted to warn Cyclonus, or maybe have him pause so he could come back down- being so close far too soon- but the words failed him. He panted and moaned, gipping Cyclonus’ horn for some form of stability. Cyclonus purred, pressing harder and sent Tailgate right over the edge.

He squealed, feeling lubricant and transfluid pulse out of him alike, but did not lose consciousness. He was grateful for that when he managed to open his optics again to see Cyclonus’ faceplate coated with thin stripes of both his fluids.

Tailgate giggled even as he squirmed slightly from overstimulation to his outer node.

Cyclonus gave one final lick before dislodging Tailgate's grip from his horn. His servo had not left tailgate’s spike, however, and Tailgate was surprised to find he was still pressurized. Flushing furiously, he wasn’t quite certain what to do with that revelation.

Cyclonus seemed to reluctant to give Tailgate any more stimulation par how sensitive his valve had become, but more to Tailgate’s surprise, he was not overly sensitive all around. He even felt disappointment as Cyclonus’ servo was released from its grip.

 

“Hmm..”

Tailgate glanced up only to giggle as Cyclonus gently swiped at his face, streaking the fluids together. He was surprised as Cyclonus licked what he had collected from his talons.

“...Sweet.”

 

Tailgate’s flushed faceplates impossibly grew warmer. He was overjoyed Cyclonus seemed to have enjoyed that, but suddenly realized he hadn’t really done much to reciprocate Cyclonus’ careful attention.

 

“Cy,” he said softly, “What about you?”

 

Both sets of cooling fans were still on, Cyclonus obviously being revved as much as Tailgate. He wanted to help if he could, even through the weirdness his own frame was going through. Normally he’d be coming down by now. Perhaps proximity to Cyclonus was having more of an effect on him than he had initially realized.

 

“Mm?”

 

Tailgate reached for Cyclonus’ free servo.

 

“Would you like me to… I mean, I’d love to reciprocate.”

 

Cyclonus tilted his head with a fond expression.

 

“But I have not finished taking care of you.”

 

Tailgate’s engine revved, much to his embarrassment. Cyclonus was always so thoughtful. The other bots could be damned, he really was amazing and put everyone else first- his only difference laid in that he did not boast or brag as they would when doing such heroic deeds.

 

Shaking his head to clear it, Tailgate pulled Cyclonus’ servo to his chassis and reiterated, “I want to reciprocate. You have always taken care of me, I want to do that for you now.”

 

Cyclonus’ chuckle was soft and sweet. He shook his head, but he was not declining the offer entirely.

 

“Hmm,” he mused softly, “Perhaps we can both be taken care of together.”

 

“Huh?”

Tailgate tilted his head to the side. It took him a moment, but when he realized what that possibly meant, he squirmed slightly. It wasn’t that he didn’t absolutely love the idea of being spiked by Cyclonus- it was a secret fantasy of his, he couldn’t deny that- but his valve and outer node had already received quite a bit of attention. He was usually a one-and-done bot.

 

Cyclonus’ servo squeezed gently at Tailgate’s. “I do not mean to spike you, Tailgate.”

 

“Huh?”

Tailgate’s helm darted up. He was now totally lost. If Cyclonus didn’t mean spiking him then what-

 

“I was thinking, actually, of having you spike me.”

 

Tailgate would have expected Cyclonus offer any other alternative known to mech before he ever believed Cyclonus would say _that_ , let alone _mean_ it.

 

“I uh.. You’d.. You’d let me..?”

 

Fumbling, Tailgate took in a vent to try and help himself wrap his processor around the very idea.

 

“Would.. Would that even.. Um..?”

 

Cyclonus chuckled.

“I would very much enjoy it,” he said and Tailgate believed him, despite his logic circuits backfiring to try and understand _how_.

 

“Okay!’

 

Ever enthusiastic, Tailgate was just as happy to oblige as he was curious.

Cyclonus hummed in time with a rev of his engine and Tailgate laughed.

Letting go of one another, both of them shifted to find a more comfortable position.  Tailgate took the chance to marvel at how lovely Cyclonus was as he moved. Everything he did, even if it was slightly awkward was just so graceful. He knew his body so well and never twisted funny or knocked himself off balance. It probably helped that he was not nearly as bulky as many mechs were in general, but it was still amazing.

Cyclonus ended up resting on his back with Tailgate kneeling between his legs. Tailgate was a bundle of glee as Cyclonus allowed him to place his servos on his thighs for balance. His plating was warm and smooth and incredibly light for as strong as it was. It made sense though, Cyclonus being a jet.

Tailgate was more than mildly shellshocked as he realized everything that was happening. He also realized, if belatedly, he was incredibly happy. The happiest he had ever been because Cyclonus had initiated all of this. He truly did want Tailgate and Tailgate alone.

 

A small click alerted Tailgate to Cyclonus’ retracted modesty panel and it was Tailgate’s turn to be riveted. Cyclonus had not retracted the panel for his spike, but his valve was absolutely gorgeous. Glowing pink lines and nodes rimmed the purple mesh that matched Cyclonus to a t. He had never changed his equipment or upgraded, just like Tailgate, though entirely by choice.

Tailgate couldn’t help himself and brought his servo to trace the outer edges, gently stroking the slickened mesh. Cyclonus made a noise of interest that had Tailgate’s face heating, but he didn’t stop. Quite the contrary, he stroked evenly, adding just a bit of firmness to his touch. Cyclonus’ vents hitched, inviting Tailgate to continue.

 

Moving his other servo to join the first, Tailgate gently pressed the folds together before separating them with his thumb digits. Lubricant leaked from Cyclonus’ valve as he did so- more than attesting to the jet’s interest. Just to be sure, Tailgate looked to Cyclonus and found himself being watched- Cyclonus flushed and heavy-lided.

Tailgate groaned quietly. It was one of the most amazing things he had ever witnessed. Cyclonus was falling apart at Tailgate’s gentle teasing, and moreso of the idea that Tailgate was going to spike him.

Curious, Tailgate lowered one of his digits and pressed towards Cyclonus’ valve ring. The calipers there cycled in minute spasms as he eagerly pressed past them and into Cyclonus’ valve.

Cyclonus’ vent left him in a rush. As it did, it carried a noise Tailgate could only describe as a whine with it. His spike throbbed, but he wanted to do this right.

He teased his digit in and out a few times, just barely brushing a cluster of nodes each time he did so. Cyclonus twitched slightly, but Tailgate felt his valve producing more lubricant and easing open under the attention.

After a few more gentle half-thrusts, Tailgate introduced a second digit. He found no resistance, but to his surprise Cyclonus noticed the difference. His face flushed further and his optics slid closed even as he shifted his legs wider. It was as wonderful as it was unexpected. Tailgate couldn’t help but stare as he continued teasing. He paid extra close attention as he even indulged a bit and slid his digits deeper- about ¾ of their full length.

Cyclonus’ hips rose and another rushed vent left him. Tailgate pushed until his servo was flush and was rewarded with a quiet moan of pleasure. He pulled them back only to slide them forward in a lewd, but quick gesture. Both Cyclonus’ volume and hips rose higher.

Tailgate was utterly fascinated. Cyclonus was beautiful like this. He would never have taken him for a valve mech, but he had been utterly sincere when he had made his offer. He was enjoying this, spinal struts arched and optics squeezed shut in pleasure. Tailgate felt wonderfully blessed he was the only one allowed to see and have this.

 

Pulling his digits free, Tailgate let Cyclonus lower himself down and take a vent before shifting. Cyclonus looked almost disappointed at Tailgate’s stopping until he felt his servos grip his waist. Curiosity bloomed across his face a moment before Tailgate boldly snapped his hips forward. The motion fully sheathed his spike in Cyclonus’ valve with unexpected accuracy. He had expected to meet with some resistance, but their lubrication had granted him full access. Cyclouns’ spinal struts arched and his thighs squeezed Tailgate’s middle as he cried out in surprise.

Cyclonus’ valve cycled down almost painfully on Tailgate, and he suddenly realized Cyclonus had also been built for practicality. Their equipment was nearly the same size, making it entirely practical Cyclonus could enjoy what Tailgate had to offer.

Cyclonus vented loudly and his fans clicked higher as he tried to right his frame. He was fully flushed and even slightly shakey- something Tailgate found he extremely enjoyed.

Tailgate let Cyclonus adjust, but Tailgate took the opportunity to move as soon as Cyclonus’ valve and thighs relented their hold.

Cyclonus’ peds dug into the berth, his valve spasming and throbbing around Tailgate’s spike in time with his spark as he pulled back and pushed his spike right back in, jabbing fairly hard against what Tailgate could only guess was Cyclonus’ ceiling node.

Cyclonus’ spinal struts arched further and his head tilted back with a deep-throated, “Tailgate!”

 

Tailgate responded by thrusting right back in, just as hard, setting a solid pace. Cyclonus moaned long and loud- the sound stuttered by Tailgate’s thrusts.

His valve squeezed and pulled at Tailgate’s spike, drawing him in again and again, charge building swiftly.

 

Not stopping, Tailgate released his hold on Cyclonus’ hips to plant his servos on the berth on either side of Cyclonus’ frame. Their chassis and hips bumped as Tailgate pushed further into Cyclonus, grinding heavily against all the node clusters within reach. Cyclonus’ servos found their way to Tailgate’s shoulders as his legs lifted to give Tailgate more access, his back finally reconnected with the berth.

Tailgate slammed into Cyclonus so hard his aft was lifted with each thrust and their armor nearly sent sparks flying.

 

Cyclonus moaned harshly into Tailgate’s audials and finally their charges came to a head. Tailgate shuddered as electricity ripped through his frame and crackled fiercely to be reciprocated by Cyclonus, driving both into a processor-splitting overload.

 

Tailgate was vaguely aware of Cyclonus’ valve cycling down to the point of pain, but his frame was locked in bliss, sparks zinging across his visual field. It took him several kliks to register anything else. When he did, it was the sound of Cyclonus’ cooling fans that came first. They sounded like they were in overdrive trying to relieve the buildup of heat and charge still rippling through his frame. Tailgate would have smiled if he was able to.

“I love you…”

 

Slightly startled, and not entirely certain he had actually heard Cyclonus speak at all, Tailgate onlined his dim optics to look at him.

Cyclonus was still heavily flushed and looked as tired as he was satisfied, but he was looking at Tailgate with heavy emotion in his optics, as if Tailgate was a treasure he would rather die than part with.

 

“I love you, Tailgate, more than you know.”

 

A slight sting found Tailgate’s optics and he let coolant overflow to douse it. He forced his elbow joint to unlock so he could reach up and gently curl his digits into what Cyclonus lacked of cheeks.

There was a million things he could have and wanted to say to that- it was just too good to be true.. All of it; Cyclonus, being alive, being wanted- but there was only one thing that seem to fit.

 

“I know,” He said softly.

 

He had known as soon as he had woken from that terrible cold death. He could feel it every time Cyclonus was near. That overwhelming fear of the unknown, but hope and joy all the same. The unending resolve that kept both of their sparks bright and alive, thrumming to the same rhythm.  Since that day, he had known it deep down to his core… it was only their fear in being unworthy of one another that had kept them at bay and, daresay, denying themselves their happiness for so long.

  
“I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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